


Those Who Dwell in the Forest

by MommaVanillaBear



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftercare, Modern fantasy setting, Shifter! Shiro, Witch! Lance, accidental harming, feral shiro, long haired lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 17:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12462375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MommaVanillaBear/pseuds/MommaVanillaBear
Summary: Ever since Lance was a young boy, he had been in love with the forest; the forest of his ancestor's was rich in lore and magic, something he had always wanted to protect. Even after the passing of his mother Lance vowed to protect his home. Vowed to do whatever it took to make sure no harm came to either forest or beast.He just wasn't expecting have a near feral shifter taking a liking to him.Nor the sudden knowledge that without a guardian to help him protect the forest, he was as good as dead.





	Those Who Dwell in the Forest

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if this is not my best work, what with the actual passing of my own mother and dealing with some anxieties, i have tried my best.   
> Just for this chapter, the bold is simply the scene of Shirogane alone. 
> 
> Also please do not send me long messages of what you want or demand for further chapters, it causes my anxiety to flare as I fear in disappointing you all.   
> Little messages of what you think is always appreciated, but please, no long messages as I just can't handle being told what to write.

_He could still remember the day, all those years ago when he was first brought to the forest of his ancestors; a forest far from any city or town, protected by vast overlaying fields and deep rivers. The forest itself was far larger than most cities, trees having grown undisturbed for centuries, their trunks large and branches long. Deep in the heart of the forest was where he was brought, to a cottage where his ancestors had once resided, keeping watch over the forest alongside the fae and other mythical creatures that made the forest their home. Though untouched for so long the cottage had an aura of home about it, the sides of the once cleaned stones having been patched over with ivy and moss growth, the wooden panels darkened from weather, and yet still it stood strong and sturdy, welcoming him and his mother._

_It was in that cottage, all those years ago when he was brought there, that Lance McClain of the water wiccan’s decided that his life would be lived in the forest his ancestor’s and dearly beloved mother protected. At just the tender age of six Lance had fallen in love with the forest, admiring the beauty and magic that so very few were able to see, finding that in time, the forest too grew fond of him, or so his mother would say when he would come home muddy footed, with twigs and flowers in his hair, a large smile on his face, cheeks still chubbed with baby fat._

_Lance had lost his mother to illness when he was only fifteen, a still tender age that found him lost and alone without her guidance and gentle hand. Lance and his mother's family had buried her deep in the forest by the river that swept through the trails. Had buried her between the river and the weeping willow, branches nearly swept the earth from how long they had grown. Relatives arrived after his mother’s passing, how they knew to come Lance did not know, only briefly aware of his aunt’s and uncle’s helping him bring flowers to the freshly upturned earth, herbs left to burn in silver bowls alongside the river as respects were paid. Lance was given a choice to leave the forest, to have someone else keep watch over the land, and yet with a fire burning through him, and a defiant glare he had scolded his mother’s family for offering such a thing. He would not leave and allow his forest to be watched by someone else, his mother would not have wanted that- and neither did he! Being his mother’s only child, Lance had a bit more say than most. With a show of defiance Lance had drawn up the hood of his midnight blue cloak, grabbed his wicker basket of leftover flowers, and stomped his way back to the cottage he had come to call home, ringing the small golden bell before entering, declaring to his onlooking family that the forest was his responsibility, and that being his mother’s son meant he could choose his own fate._

_The echoing of the slammed door still rung through Lance’s ears when he remembered that late spring day, the day he accepted the possibility of forever being alone; it mattered not to him if he were to be alone, after all, he had the spirits of the forest to keep him company as well as all the inhabitants both animal and fae. Lance was content, he had his routine and ways, and despite the ache in his chest he felt whenever passing by his mother’s closed bedroom door, he considered himself happy._

 

  
The morning rays were just creeping through the leaves of the trees by the time the young witch of eighteen awoke; dressing himself in a simple outfit of tan slacks and white shirt he tugged on a dark blue cloak. Part of his duties of being the caretaker of the forest meant harvesting the more poisonous of plants, keeping both animals and fae safe; though it was never mentioned that the young witch kept most of them in various jars for later use.In his spare time Lance also collected the various herbs and flora he would find growing either deep in the thickets or down by the rushing river. It was with these ingredients that Lance made his various concoctions, at times bottling them up to bring them to the nearby city as either soaps, candles, or love potions, selling them at a local markets he knew to be run by a distant relative. 

The morning air was cool upon Lance’s skin, the sun’s rays taking their time in warming not only him but the earth, dew sending chills whenever his bare feet touched the wet grass or fallen leaves; with it being still early in the fall Lance chose not to wear shoes, rather enjoying the freedom he felt by feeling the earth around him, feeling the natural magic of the forest rising through him. With a wicker basket hanging from his arm Lance made his rounds of the forest, selecting various flowers that he would use in soaps and candles, careful not to pluck too many, his oceanic blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears at the sight of the thick flower patch by the river’s edge, knowing well enough that his mother had been buried there. Her body returning to the earth and used to create new life; Lance knew her spirit lingered in the forest, that reason alone he did not cry, merely selecting a few violets and lady slippers before heading back towards his cottage. He would still have to draw water and gather enough berries to make jam, honestly Lance sometimes wished he could just buy the normal conveniences of the modern world- but then, that wouldn’t make the forest happy, now would it?

No, Lance would keep things traditional as possible. Though, that was not to say he didn’t splurge on various items such as facial creams and soft linens. Lance would never admit it outloud, but he did envy the ones whom lived in the cities and towns, though he would never give up his peace and quiet for things such as too many people and headache inducing noise. 

Stopping in his train of thought Lance shifted down into a kneeling position, moving his hand upon an old oak tree, marveling at a large gash that marred the bark. Had he not known better he would have thought perhaps it had been done by a bear or passing bobcat; the problem was, it was much deeper, and dragged out than any animal marking he had seen before. A sudden chill ran down his spine, his hand retracting at the thought of what beast could have done such a thing, noting with widening eyes that the earth by the tree’s roots was upturned and the roots themselves slashed as if by an ax. Lance had known that there were still many different creatures that lived in the forest besides the naturally occurring animals and gentle fae, often keeping to himself rather than risking being ensnared by false allures and ‘promises of wishes’; the marks he saw reminded him of a hastily sketched picture he had seen in his spell book back at the cottage. 

Changelings, or as his mother had warned him, Shifters.Those who could take on human form as well as an animal’s, taking on both characteristics when in either state. The thought alone frightened him; Lance had never met a shifter before, having been warned that most were blood thirsty and unable to contain themselves when it came to the need to kill and eat. Lance was told from the tender age of ten when he could fully understand, that if there was a shifter in the forest then he would either need to wait until it left, or pray that the forest guardian would purge it. Which led Lance to another problem…

He had not appointed a guardian to the forest yet, having not found a suitable creature to be up for the task, not to mention, he simply was too busy and had little to no idea as to where to start looking. 

Running his fingers through his dark locks- his hair was in desperate need of a haircut, having already grown past his shoulders- Lance sighed in frustration, getting up from his kneeling with a crack of his joints. With all the bending and scavenging he had been doing most of his teen years Lance wasn’t surprised by the sound, a laugh escaping him once he started walking, murmuring to himself about his body catching up to his old soul. 

“Now, what would be good for dinner?” Lance asked himself, stepping over a fallen branch, spying the mushrooms he needed to collect for his protection spell, “honestly, maybe I should consider going vegetarian, would make hunting less of a hassle.” With a quick swoop of his hand Lance plucked the mushroom from the ground, root and all before depositing it by the others in the basket, wiping the bit of dirt from his fingers onto the hem of his cloak. Lance took silent stock of what he still had in the reinforced ‘cooler’, an old drink cooler he had charmed to keep food chilled. He knew he still had some leftover ground meat and sliced potatoes from the other night, and the idea of smothering it in freshly stewed mushroom gravy had his mouth watering. Still, with so much left to do Lance had no time to think about dinner, his footsteps quickening as he walked the familiar forest trails.

 

 

**It hurt…**

**Blinding pain brought the large wolf to his haunches, barely able to teeter away from the river’s edge on the far side of the forest, his muzzle cut across and still bleeding profusely. Panting hard the wolf tried to get back to his paws, tried gain his bearings on what had happened, but all he could remember was running. Remembered claws flashing and the scent of foreign and familiar copper scented blood ensnaring his sense of smell.**

**Gray eyes closed for a moment, fear of being caught off guard causing them to fight to remain open. It was a long shot, his bones were already aching with pain at the thought, but if he could just shift for a bit, could just allow his human body to take over, perhaps he could get further into the forest and away from what was chasing him.**

**It made sense to the wolf.**

**Clawing at the tree before him the wolf’s thick black coat began to recede back, melting into pale skin belonging to that of a well built man. The tail receding normally didn’t hurt, but being in his position he couldn’t help but tear at the roots underneath him, panting roughly once the slow process of bones shifting was over**

**He needed to get up, and on foreign legs that he nearly forgot was his own, the man began to walk, unaware of the bloody mess he had left behind against the cut bark of yet another tree.**

 

 

Lance’s hands stung by the time he had finished picking the last of the mushrooms he had needed, finding that more than a few had thistles growing around them, and that by his carelessness, he had more than once caught his fingers on them. Blowing on the small cuts of his fingers and palm Lance placed the basket into the safety of his home, replacing it on his arm with a traditional wooden bucket, already dreading the journey back from the river, wishing his ancestors had been observant enough to have constructed a well. Perhaps it had been Lance’s imagination getting the best of him, or perhaps the fae were finally deciding to try and once again trick him, but Lance could have sworn he had heard something in the distance, something clamoring about, or perhaps it was merely the wind brushing tree branches against one another again. The forest could be quite noisy, Lance reminded himself, shrugging his shoulders to relax himself. Had he been paying attention he would have saw a pair of eyes watching him from the underbrush, the eyes slowly narrowing in confusion.   
“Let’s see, need to get the water boiling, oh, and i’ll need to get some more wax the next time I go back to the market…” Lance murmured to himself, aware that if anyone had heard him they would have thought him to be mad. He wasn’t mad, thank you very much, he simply was eccentric and prefered talking to himself over constant silence. “I hope there’s a sale next week, I need to get more face cream, and maybe some more of that chocolate cake. Maybe Hunk will be there.” Dipping the wooden bucket into the swiftly running river Lance allowed himself to fill and dump it out several times, washing out any of the residue from previous use before filling it to the brim and placing it on the side of the river’s edge. Removing the dark blue cloak Lance carefully folded it, placing it close to the bucket whilst he rolled up his pants to his knees, dipping a toe into the cold water of the river before stepping in, shivering hard. It had to be done, he told himself. Each day he had to enter the river and connect with the spirits that protected it, that purified the water of any impurities. And each time Lance would shiver, knowing fully well the water spirits were laughing at him, their laughter causing the water to flow faster, nearly sweeping Lance off his feet until the stronger current subsided, the water warming up a bit until Lance was sure that he had paid his respects, stepping out to wipe his feet against the grass, cursing himself for not knowing a better way. 

It was at that moment that Lance went to grab his cloak that he suddenly looked over to the thicket of bushes behind him, nearly screaming as he jumped forward, the bucket spilling over and his cloak soaked. Staring back at him were two eyes that Lance had known he had never seen before. Cold gray eyes that he could barely make out the whites of, narrowing at the noise Lance had emitted. Stepping further back Lance’s footing gave out from the slippery earth of the river’s edge, causing him to fall back hard, a splash resounding, the water swiftly covering him, the sensation of his tail bone striking a rock causing him to hurl forward, a gasp tearing from his mouth. Looking about to where he had seen the eyes Lance saw nothing, not even the rustling of leaves. Getting up cautiously- Lance would never admit to his own fear, the tan skinned witch climbed back up onto the banking, wringing his hair out before sighing at the sight of his cloak soaking wet and smeared with fresh mud. 

Lance despised washing laundry. 

Wringing out the cloak as best he could Lance refilled the bucket, his eyes wary whilst he made his way home, untrusting of each noise he heard. Surely if it had been a shifter as he feared, it would have lunged for his throat rather than merely watch him from the shadows of a bush- right?

  
Making his way back to the cottage that he called home, Lance brushed off the mud that soiled the hem on the bottom of the cloak before hanging it up over the clothesline he had put up at the beginning of summer. Without fear of being seen, after all, none dared enter his forest, Lance stripped himself down of his wet clothes, giving them a final wringing before heading inside the safety of the cottage, tapping the bell on his way in. With the door firmly closed Lance gathered up a spare pelt, heading over to the stone fireplace before setting out a few branches he had collected, breaking the smaller ones with ease whilst he grabbed the pieces of flint, sparking them several times in frustration at seeing his effort going to waste before mumbling out an incantation, watching as a dying spark burst outwards, catching onto the closest branch before bursting into flames, nearly burning Lance’s fingers. 

“That should last a bit.” Lance sighed, taking a seat in front of the fire as he wiggled his toes and curled his fingers, his chilled, wet skin absorbing the heat the flames provided, his mind once more falling back on his earlier train of thought. 

If there was- had been a shifter in the forest, surely the various fae’s and animals would have driven it out, right? Surely he would have seen more signs than merely clawed bark. Though it also didn’t explain the eyes he saw- Lance had never seen such eyes belonging to any animal or fae, there was something about them, something almost human that had brought such fear for his own safety. 

Oh why hadn’t he selected a guardian yet?!

  
“Looks like i’ll have to dig out the old spell book… I really hope it’s just a passing animal, I don’t think I could handle fighting off another monster.” Lance frowned, reaching back for the old leather bound book he kept near the fireplace, resting it in his lap as he began to hunch forward. Opening the old book Lance’s nose twitched, a bit of dust wafting up from the sudden turning of the pages, a sneeze catching him by surprise as he moved to cover his mouth, suddenly hearing what sounded to be a crow screeching overhead and the sound of his door’s bell ringing. 

That was not a good sign.

 


End file.
